Figments
by Melanie Rose
Summary: "Lesley." His voice is softer, more silky this time, but cuts through me like ice. He grins, revealing pointed teeth. I gasp; his are rolled back to their whites. Blood from his inky black hair trickles down his face. He looks terrible and beautiful.
1. First

**A/N; Yaaay, for my first uploaded fanfic! n_n**

**Disclaimer; Simon, Jace, Clary, Isabelle and Eric belong to Cassandra Clare, not me...**

* * *

FIGMENTS 01

I used to believe that magic didn't exist, that the demons creeping out of the shadows at night weren't really there; that they were just figments of my overactive imagination. That the faeries I'd seen dancing in the forest, the moonlight illuminating their bodies; making them seem like angels and demons all at once were just the trees gliding in the wind. If someone had told me that such beings existed, back then I wouldn't have even considered the idea.

But now, after I'd met the boy with the jet black eyes and the almost inhuman grace, I'm not so sure.

He told us that he'd ended up that way from a drug problem he had over summer, that his unnaturally pale skin was merely a side effect of the vast amount of drugs he'd taken. The entire school believed him too, though I didn't.

I could always sense something that was off, like prey sensing a nearby predator and, despite his warm gaze and almost-perfect attitude; he was the predator. And from the way he would sometimes look at me, I was the prey.

***

It was my first day of my school, the one event that I'd been dreading for the entire summer. It wasn't that I was scared that I'd be sat alone at lunch, picking apart whatever crap the school had served that day – I'd made friends with some kids who lived down the street from me in the summer. It wasn't that I was scared that the so-called popular kids would pick on me either, I was the type that they normally didn't even bother with; I was the type who sat on the sidelines, looking in through the glass – a wallflower. But for the first few days I wouldn't be, at the start of each new lesson I'd have to endure standing at the front of the class and if the teacher's feeling particularly mean, I'd have to introduce myself too, and have all those piercing eyes of my new classmates on me. That's what I'm dreading.

Thankfully, I seemed to glide by the school day with an ease I hadn't expected; so far no teachers had made me introduce myself and I only had one more lesson to go with some teacher called Mr Richardson, who –according to Violet with the almost yellow eyes – was a hot _daumn _and wouldn't force me to make an idiot of myself. But that's exactly what he did.

So here I am, the focus of all the piercing eyes, I can feel them analysing me, and I can see girls laughing behind their hands, and I can taste their bitterness and hear their cruel whispers. I feel the colour rushing to my face as I mutter a nervous hello and rush to my seat, almost tripping over someone's outstretched leg. I'd promised myself I would leave behind the shy, nervous girl and bring forward the new, confident Lesley. So much for that.

Even though I am now sat at the back of the class and Mr Richardson is covering a topic we 'desperately need to know' I can still feel some of their eyes on me. I say feel because I am not looking up, I am looking straight down at my new orange work book; too scared to look up for the fear of catching someone's gaze. I am not listening to what Mr Richardson is saying anymore, but I am writing, pretending to take notes. I do not want to look up.

The final bell of the day screeches, causing almost the whole class to cup their hands over their ears. Violet told me they had installed a new bell system and hadn't quite got it working perfectly because some guy named Eric had wrecked the old one.

I am now sliding my book into my bag, still not daring to look up.

"Hey pretty thing." I flinch at the sound of the voice and slowly pull my eyes from my bag. A boy with startling green eyes that aren't quite warm nor welcoming is staring at me curiously. And he most certainly isn't staring at my face. "Names Eric." He pauses as if trying to add suspense. "Please let me have the pleasure of buying you a coffee." He still isn't looking at my face.

I stand there, unable to even slide my orange book in my bag. I say nothing.

He's talking to me, muttering compliments that I should find offensive, but I just stand there saying nothing – not even smiling.

A hand clamps on Eric's shoulder, "Dude, leave the poor girl alone."

My eyes dart to the boy standing slightly behind Eric. He was beautiful; there was no doubting that - with his dark eyes and careless brown hair curling just above his ears. He is wearing a grey iron maiden band shirt which just contrasts heavily against his pale skin and though he doesn't seem to be muscled there is an air about him that tells you he is quite strong.

The boy throws me a sympathetic look; I just look down and bite my lip in return. "Anyway, you have a girlfriend, remember?" He raises his eyebrows at Eric and chuckles, which oddly sends a chill up my spine.

And then I realise. His beauty is terrible, like that of the dancing faeries in the moonlight. And even though he is now staring at me with warm and welcome eyes, he scares me more than Eric. He sends alarm bells off in my head. He makes me want to run from this school and never come back. I notice that I still haven't slid my orange book into my bag and that I am clutching it, holding it close to my chest as if to protect me.

Neither me nor Eric replies; Eric clearly embarrassed with an edge of annoyance from the boy's remark, and me merely stood there, clutching my book like a deer in headlights. The boy flashes a crooked smile and mutters an apology on Eric's behalf and before I know it; he's dragging Eric through the door of the classroom, leaving me alone.

I sling my bag over my shoulder, though I do not put my orange book in it, I am still clutching it, afraid to let go, afraid of that boy's terrible beauty, afraid of the haunting memories he brings back, afraid of the secrets he obviously holds.

By the time I'm in the parking lot most of the students have already gone home, a few linger smoking and talking, others still kissing and saying goodbye, some waiting for another, just like Lee is waiting for me, crap.

He's leaning against his blue truck, Faber Drive blasting out from inside - he always listens to them when he's pissed off. I run over to him as fast as my feeble legs can carry me, shouting apologies, but he's already seen me and is climbing inside. So I pull open the door and slide inside as fast as possible, I'm sure he would happily speed off without me, but I do not want to lose my ride.

And the split second I'm in; he's already speeding off, away from the school. I steal glance over at him; he's focused on the road but I can tell that if he didn't need to he would be glaring at me. I don't look at him as I put my seat belt on.

"Where the hell have you been Lesley?!" He thunders and reaches to turn the music down so I can hear him properly, but there's no point, I can hear him clear as day. "You know I have to go visit my father before the poetry reading, and I can't be late for any of them!"

"I'm sorry." I say in a small voice. "I really am." I bite my lip, not sure what else to say.

And then we sit the rest of the journey in silence, I keep myself busy by finally putting my orange book in my bag, there's nothing to be scared of here, with Lee, I watch as we speed by the houses, all of the colours blending together in my eyes. Before I know it, we're outside my apartment block.

"Thanks for the ride." I mutter, getting out of the car, still not daring to look at him. "I hope your dad is ok."

"It's fine Lesley, really. I'm sorry." He presses a finger to his lips, and then I know that means he's calmed down. "Just come with me tonight, to the poetry reading. Please?"

I bite my lip.

"I really need you. What with my Dad being in hospital and all."

I sigh. "Ok."

"Thanks, pick you up at 7?"

I nod and watch as he smiles and drives away.

***

When Lee and I arrive the coffee shop is almost empty, I recognise a few kids from school dotted around the room, the vast majority of then talking over steaming coffee. I see the boy from earlier talking in a hushed tone with 2 girls, one with fiery red hair, the other with midnight black hair whisking down her back and a boy with hair too blonde to be natural. They are all very beautiful, but not in the same way as the boy, not in a way that sends chills up my spine.

Lee tugs on my jacket and I realise I had been staring but thankfully the boy hadn't seemed to notice. I try not to look at him as Lee guides me to our seats.

Being a gentleman he pulls out my seat for me, and asks me what drink I want. I thank him and ask for a summer berries smoothie, even though it is rather chilly outside.

When he disappears I sit and watch the people I recognise from my school, laughing over their coffee and then I look over to the boy, with his hushed conversation and his hand wrapped around a hot chocolate I know he will never drink. In that moment, I couldn't help but feel sorry for him, for some reason or other he couldn't be as happy as careless as the others, that something deep down inside of him was very, very wrong and I could see the hurt in his eyes. In that moment I wanted to go over and tell him that it's going to be ok. In that moment I forgot all the fear he'd given to me. I just wanted him to be ok.

I watch as the blonde boy places his arm around the redhead and they share a kiss, I watch as the boy's expression falters, as the hurt glides to his face, but in the blink of an eye, it's gone again and replaced by a bemused look. The dark-haired girl is rolling her eyes, rubbing her hand up and down the boy's shoulder. She is leaning in, he tenses up. She inches closer...

"ONE GRANDE SUMMER FRUITS SMOOTHIE!" Lee shouts, banging the smoothie down on the dimly lit table. I jerk upwards, almost knocking the table and the smoothie over.

_Good one, Lesley._


	2. Overwhelming Fear

**A/N; Thankyou to everyone who read, reviewed, favourited and added this story to thier alerts list, it means a lot. [:**

**I'm sorry this chapter is so short, but the next chapter should be up within a few days. And to those people who asked whether I will be doing a chapter from Simon's POV; I might be, but that will be in later chapters n_n**

**Disclaimer; Simon, Clary and Jace do not belong to me, they belong to Cassandra Clare, all the other characters in this chapter belong to me**

* * *

FIGMENTS 02

He sees me. He laughs. Though I don't hear it. He's walking over. I look behind me to check, to look for one last shred of hope that he's not walking over to me. There's nobody there. I turn back around. My heart is beating too fast. I can hear it. It wants to whirlwind out of my chest, away from here, away from everyone. Especially from him. I look down to my bag, my orange book still rests in there, I am tempted to pull it out in hope that it might protect me.

Lee is looking at me, staring wide-eyed, wondering what could have possibly frightened me so much. I wonder too; what is it about this boy that petrifies me, that sends chills up my spine?

I steal a glance at his table, the redhead and blonde are still there, gazing into each others eyes with expressions of nothing more than total and unconditional love. A pang of jealously stabs me in the stomach.

He is almost here now. He passes a waitress, she flashes him a smile, but he ignores it. Her skirt is far too short; her top is far too low. I feel the urge to slap her silly. But I can't. I can't move. It's as if I am glued to the chair.

"Do you want to go?" Lee asks me. But I say nothing in return. My eyes are locked on the boy advancing towards us, though I know I am not looking at him like the redhead and the blonde were, I am looking at him which an expression filled with fear; which I cannot mask.

He is here now. I avert my eyes to the table. It is still coated in the smoothie I spilled.

"Do you need a hand with that?" I do not need to look up to know whose voice it was; though I do anyway in hope that it isn't him. But it is him. I look over to Lee, he is sat back as far as he can go in his chair, arms folded glaring at the boy.

Not taking his eyes from the boy, not even blinking, he snaps, "What do you want?"

"I just wanted to help, you know clean up." The boy says gesturing to the table. His face masked with an innocence I know is false.

Lee looks at me for a brief moment, and something flashes across his face as our eyes connect. "Well, you're obviously bothering Lesley. I've never see her tense up like that." The glare returns to his features as his gaze shifts from me to boy. "Something you want to tell me?"

The boy looks taken aback, eyes wide with shock that I know is real this time. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to." The boy turns to me, I want to tell him that I'm sorry, that this all just a big misunderstanding, to tell him – and Lee - that I just overreacted and to forget the whole thing. But I can't, the fear overwhelms me. He just wanted to help. "I am sorry Lesley; I didn't mean to scare you. I tend to do that a lot nowadays…"

He trails off. I look him the eyes, for real this time. And I see not pain in his eyes, but complete and utter agony.


	3. Seeing

**A/N; Thanks again to everyone who reads, reviews, favourites and adds this story to thier alerts list - it means a lot! n_n**

**Disclaimer; I don't own Simon, Jace, Clary or Eric. The rest of the characters, and the plot belong to me.**

* * *

FIGMENTS 03

He begins to walk away. I can't let him, I can't stand back and just ignore what I saw in his eyes; nobody deserves to suffer like that. No one.

I swallow my fear and force my feet to move, I weave in and out of the tables as fast as I possibly can. He's in touching distance now. I reach out; I can only just reach his arm-

I jerk back, my body slamming against a table behind me, almost knocking it completely over; my hands grip the table, as if to steady me. A shiver passes through me. His skin was cold. Ice cold.

The boy swerves around rapidly, almost too fast. His friends are watching us, I can feel their eyes on us. I can feel their alarm. I know my mouth is hanging open in agape and I don't bother to shut it, it's too late, he's already caught my expression and his is an exact replica of mine.  
He doesn't say anything, he just gazes at me, and for the first time I've seen him, he looks fragile and wild-eyed.

"I'm sorry," I whisper, rubbing my palms together even though I'm not cold. I pause for a moment to enjoy the sensation of burning in my palms. "I overreacted."

The boy breaks our gaze and reaches up to rub his forehead, revealing the corner of what looks like a black mark underneath his mass of hair which almost completely covers his forehead. His eyes focus on the floor as he shoves his hands into his pockets.

He doesn't look at me as he says, "It's fine Lesley, you did nothing wrong. I don't blame you for acting the way you did, it's understandable considering that I am-" He breaks off. I know that it is not fine, that it is not okay. I find myself reaching over to touch him.

But before I have a chance to, he's already hurrying out the cafe door, still not looking up. The bell of the cafe door rings.

I don't move as the redheaded girl pushes past me, running after the boy. I look over to the blonde-haired boy, to see if he's going too, but he doesn't. The bell rings again.

Like a flicker of a light, black tattoos appear on his skins, millions of lines, lacing in and out of each other. I know I am not imagining this. I can't be. I blink again, just to be sure. The tattoos still remain and I could swear to God that they weren't there before. I have to be imagining this. I have to. But something deep down is telling that this is very, very real. It can't be. I wish I was imagining this, I really do.

"Lesley!" He shouts, there is a cocky, almost arrogant edge to his voice, as if he expects me not to hear him. How does he know my name?

"What?" I whisper, I take a step towards him. My heart is beating rapidly.  
The cocky grin is whipped off his face in a second. His eyes are wide with shock, as if I wasn't supposed to hear what he said. But why would that be? He said my name, after all.

And then he rushes out the door, disappearing into the night, leaving me standing there, bewildered. The bell rings again.

I ignore Lee's cries, I ignore him as he rushes towards me, I ignore him as he puts his arms around me, pulling me closer. I fight my way out of his arms and dart out of the cafe, just like the boy had. I hear the bell for the final time.

The crisp cool air hits me the second I set foot out of the cafe, I look down the noisy street, searching for the boy, even for the girl and blonde haired boy, just for someone to tell me what the hell is going on. I can't ignore it anymore, I can't pretend what I see is just my imagination anymore, I can't keep lying to myself.

I walk down the street for a while; I wrap my arms around myself as a shiver passes through me, though this time not out of fear. I realise I have left my jacket in the cafe, I shiver again.

I pass an alleyway, from the artificial glow of the street lights I can just about make out the shadows of 2 people. I duck behind a corner as the voices drift into earshot, pressing my back against a brick wall.

"Simon, she's just doesn't understand, she sees what you are, not who you are. There's a difference....maybe if she got to know you..."

Are they talking about me?

It's the boy's voice. "Clary did you see the look on her face when I was walking towards her? Did you see the look on her face earlier at school?"

Yes, they are.

A pause. "No Simon, I didn't but she doesn't see you-"

She's cut off. "She sees me as a monster, which is exactly what she damn well should see me as."

"You're not a monster. You're not like Raphael and his clan."

A shiver passes over me.

"Yet, Clary. They've given in into their cravings, how can you know I won't do the same? How do you know that someday I won't be like them?"

"Because you're Simon," her voice breaks.

He sighs. "Sometimes I am. Other times I'm not, do you know what I wanted to do to her?" The girl, Clary doesn't reply. "I wanted to rip her throat open, spill her blood and drink it. It took everything I had to stop myself from doing it. Now, Clary tell me I'm not a monster."

My throat closes up. I want to run, everything inside me is screaming to run away, to get away from Simon, to get away from the equally terrible and beautiful things I see, to get away from this God forsaken world.

"This is all my fault Simon-"

I don't want to hear anymore, I don't think I _can._

***

When I get back into the cafe, the boy from earlier, Eric is reading poetry and everyone looks either disturbed or amused but I don't listen to the poetry, I need to find Lee.

I rush over to our table, the mess left by the smoothie is now gone, Lee barely notices as I sit down muttering apologies.

So I merely sit there, holding back the tears that trying to escape, but I can't let them, not here, not in front of Lee. My head falls into my hands, and I keep it there and I let the tears flow, each running down my face and then falling on to the wooden table, as if like real rain drops.

After a few minutes of listening to Eric's dreadful poetry, I pull my head out of my hands and wipe away the remaining tears, just as I do, Lee's head snaps around, his eyes burning. He is glaring at me the same way he was at Simon; I look down as a stab of pain hits me in the stomach.

"What the hell was that all about, Lesley?!" He says, banging his hands on the wooden table, knocking the small flower on it over.

"Nothing, please just forget it." I mutter, fighting back the tears. "I really don't want to talk about it, ok?"

He opens his mouth to say something, probably a sarcastic comment or something tainted with anger, but in a split-second he snaps it shut again. Instead he says, "Ok, whatever." Then mutters something about how hard it is to be my best friend. I try to block it out.

I need some air. I tell Lee I need to get away from here, but he ignores me, so I tell him that I'll be waiting outside for him.

I hear the bell ring again as I step out of the cafe, the cool air hits me like a whip this time, this time I do not fight back the tears, there's no one around and except for the cars whizzing by, carrying a large gusts of wind with them. And then, in matter of seconds I'm being slammed against a wall.

"Going somewhere, Mundie?" It's the blonde-haired boy, though up close his hair seems more golden, they match his eyes – and in a way, his skin. He pulls a small knife and lets it briefly caress my throat; drops of my blood splatter the floor. "Don't move a muscle."

My entire body tenses up in fear. I can't breathe.


	4. Deadly Sight

**A/N; Thankyou to anyone who has read, reviewed, favourited or added this story to thier alerts list, it means a lot.**

**Though I could use some more feedback, so please review!**

**Disclaimer; Simon, Eric and Jace do not belong to me, they belong to Cassandra Clare..all other characters and the plot belong to me.**

* * *

FIGMENTS 04

"I know you can see this world for what it really is. And trust me, that's not a good thing. Not if you get found out." I look him straight in the eyes; his aren't laced with tears, unlike mine. Cold air hits my neck and it begins to sting; even though the blade still rests against it.

"I'm not going to hurt you." He coos softly. I don't believe him. He still hasn't removed the blade from neck. He is looking at me curiously. I think he is expecting me to reply. But I don't. I won't. He sighs, probably figuring out that I won't reply. "Listen, you need to keep your knowledge of the Shadow World a secret. I'm probably supposed to bring you to the institute but it looks like you've managed to get on unrecognised up until now, so you should be fine."

It's real. That horrible world I've been seeing is real. Those terrible and beautiful faeries are _real_. A shiver creeps up spine. I want to scream.

"Don't scream." He says, as if he's read my mind. For all I know now he could have. "Listen to me, ok? You need to make sure you're armed at all times, take self defence lessons, don't go out at night without someone and defiantly don't go out at night without a knife." I shudder. "You know the drill, but now you need to follow it. What I'm saying is that you need to be cautious, very cautious because this world that you can see, as much as you hate to believe it, is real."

The blade is pulled from my neck, it is stained with blood, _my_ blood. But he doesn't move.

"I hope we do not meet again, Lesley." And with that he disappears into the night.

The wind whirls around me, causing my hair to flare up in to my eyes; it makes what little trees there are rock viciously from side to side in such a way that makes me wonder why they haven't been ripped from their sheaths yet.

I don't move. I touch my neck. Scarlet blood stains my fingers. It had happened, it was real. It wasn't my imagination. I try my best not to scream. It's all real, everything I've seen is real. I know I need to avoid Simon at all costs, I was planning to anyway but I need to be extra careful because whatever that world is, he is most defiantly a part of it.

"Hey Lesley, are you ok?" A voice says, starling me. It's Lee. He catches my expression. "Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you." He pauses. "You're shaking. Are you cold?"

I am shaking, but it's not from the cold. But I nod anyway.

He hands me my jacket, I shrug it on. It's warm, but it doesn't stop me from shaking.

"Come on, let's get you home." He whispers, wrapping his arms around me. He touches my neck. Scarlet blood now stains his fingers too. "What-"

"I really don't want to talk about it." I say in a barely audible voice, I press a finger to his lips, just in case he didn't hear. "Please, I just want to go home."

He pulls my hand away from his lips, though he doesn't let go of my hand, instead he pulls it close to his chest, close to his heart. He holds our gaze. "Ok." Lee whispers, his warm breath pinches at my skin, I shudder again.

I feel safer now that Lee is here, but as he leads me to his car, I can't help but glance over my shoulder to make sure that no one's there, following me.

***

I look dreadful, my eyes are wild and are plastered with running mascara, my hairs a tangled mess and I'm pretty sure if I even attempted to brush it; I'd lose the hairbrush. I stare at my face, trying to keep my eyes away from my neck. I daren't look, I truly hope there's not a thin red line there because that means that last night actually happened, and it can't be. It just can't.

My eyes catch me off guard and steal a glance at my neck. It's there alright. It creeps around from the side of neck, and then I see it. Slicing through the front half of my neck, it's turned slightly upwards at the end, in a grim smile. It's laughing at me. I actually scream this time. I touch it. It stings. I know I won't be able to cover it up with foundation. I think about pretending to be ill, but I'm not that good an actor. I can't cover it up with a scarf either because it's 30 degrees outside. I stifle a scream.

Since my hair's a mess, I put it up with a clip but I let some of it escape in order the cover the scar, it doesn't work very well, though it's better than nothing at all. I sigh.

I head towards the small bathroom, when I get in there's wet towels crowding the floor, Rowan, my 19 year old brother. He's probably already out of the house now, working his _oh so amazing job_, serving food at McDonalds because that's _so _worth giving up collage for. I'll yell at him when he gets home, hopefully he won't have brought a girl home this time.

Images flash into my head as I wipe the mascara off my face, Simon looking wild-eyed and fragile, the boy blonde boy, holding a knife to my throat, Clary who I presume is the redhead, chasing after Simon and Lee, outside the café looking confused and angry. A shiver runs up my spine, I don't think I can bare seeing Simon today, I don't think I can bare his terrible beauty, I don't think I can bare his perfect grace, I don't think I can bare his jet black eyes.

_Come on Lesley, you need to man up; you need to be stronger if you're going to survive, remember what that boy said._

And I do, vividly. I remember it as if it is happening right now, I can feel the knife against my skin, I can hear his words, I can feel the wind slashing at my face. He said I need to be armed at all times, where am I going to get a knife? Then it hits me, my Dad's dagger. He told me it had been handed down through the generations in my family, that it was well over 100 years old, but it should do.

I dart around the house, rummaging through various draws and cupboards, no sign of it. Wait, my Dad's bedside table. I dash into my Dad's bedroom. I pull open the draw of his bedside table, nearly pulling it completely out. I wrinkle my nose. His room stinks of cigarettes, I hate smokers.

I rummage around for a while, pulling out various papers and ugh, condoms. And there it is, the sunlight bouncing off it reflects back into my eyes, I squint. It's shinning and looks brand new, as if it was bought yesterday. There are no traces of finger prints on it, I pick it up and notice there's something engraved on the handle. _To_ _R. J. Harris, from your beloved father_. I feel a pinch of guilt as wrap it up in a kitchen towel and slip it into my school bag. I hope never have a chance to use it.

I look at the clock in the kitchen, it reads 8:04 – I need to hurry up. I open up a cupboard to see if there's any waffles I can eat as a dash out of the door. It's empty, damn Rowan.

In the end I just grab one of the few edible apples left, sling my bag over my shoulder and dash out the door, I know I am late and I pray that Lee hasn't left without me. My question is instantly answered when I find myself standing outside my apartment block, no blue truck in sight, crap.

I don't even bother to look along the sidewalk for the second-hand Ford Fiesta that Rowan and I share. Walking it is.

I check my watch, 8:17 – I'm going to be late for sure and what an impression that's going to make- the new girl, late on her second day. I sigh. This is so one of those fuck my life moments, though, questionably so is my entire life. _You're so optimistic today Lesley._

***

The second I walk in the doors the bell screeches, signalling that first period's over, well at least I avoided Geography.

And in a matter of seconds, doors are being thrust open and what seems like millions of students are pouring out of each, making what was an empty, quiet hallway merely moments ago become a queue to get into Twilight, pushing and shoving, shouting and cursing, kissing and –a sudden spark amidst the crowd catches my attention – smoking?

I walk by Eric. He whistles at me. I run, colliding with a tall jock, he looks down at me and grumbles. I try not to scream. My head is now buzzing with unanswered questions that the smarter side of my brain prays are never answered. Is Eric like Simon? If so, _what_ are they?

I sigh. My life is spiralling out of control and there's no way to stop it.

_There is one way to stop it, to gain control..._

No. I am not going down that road again. No. I shake my head as if that dismisses the thought all together, but it doesn't. Though I really wish it did.

"Holy crap Lesley!" A perky voice shouts, plunging me out of my thoughts. And there, staring at me through her yellow-eyed gaze is Violet. She links her in arm in mine, a perky way to say; 'hey! You're walking with me whether you like it or not'. I sigh, there's no possible way I'm going to get out of this. "What the hell happened to you?"

"Jeeze Violet, you scared the crap out of me." I retort, hoping she didn't notice that I'd avoided her question.

Violet puffs, shooting a gust of air which causes her bangs to temporarily wave up and down uncontrollably. "I obviously didn't scare the crap out of you enough because you still look like crap."

_Oh Violet, you're much too nice._ The sarcastic comment rung in my head, normally I wouldn't have said such a thing, never mind thought it, but after a questionable morning I actually debated saying it to her. But then I remembered her atrocious temper and instead mutter a defeated, "Thanks Violet," instead.

We pass a tall blonde girl who bumps Violet's shoulder, who, at exact same moment in time makes a sound that oddly resembles that of a snake. The girl stops dead in her tracks, and whirls around, making an unexpected gust of wind. She places her hands on her hips, thrusting glares Violet's way that I'm sure would've have made a little girl cry.

"Bitch." Barks the girl.

"Slut."

The girl grinds her teeth so hard; I swear I can hear small pieces of them falling off. "I. Am. Not. A. Slut." She takes a single footstep in our direction, her hands balling into fists.

A small grin appears on Violet's face and I can practically see the light bulb appear over the top of her head. "Oh I'm SO sorry Courtney, would whore work better for you?" She pauses as Courtney scowls; Violet presses her finger to her lips. "You know what, you're right Courtney, I think the word prostitute is the best match."

I have to make an obscene effort to hide my grin. I find myself leaning in, excited to hear Courtney's comeback.

But shamefully all she says is, "URGHHH. You'll regret that soon enough Fowler." And then marches away, literally right down the middle of the crowd that had formed to watch the catfight, apparently Violet and Courtney were no strangers when it comes to catfights with each other, and the catfights are appearing to be quite famous, especially amongst the opposite gender.

Violet, laughing so hard that there are actually tears streaming down her face, darts through the disappointed crowd (the majority of which, are boys moaning that was no slapping and hair pulling), dragging me with her, constantly muttering things like, 'I so owned her!' and, '.' I couldn't help but roll my eyes at her exceptional glee.

"-did you hear me Lesley?" I turn to stare at her, bewilderment clear on my face. She sighs and knits her eyebrows together. "We have math next, and not only the eye candy of hot _daummmn_ Mr Richards but with the incredibly sexy a la Simon and Eric."

"You didn't use French correctly then, you know." _At least I don't think so; I'd never paid any attention in French_. I point out and I give her a confused look, pretending that I don't know who Simon and Eric are. She then went into a whole speech about the top 20 'hotties' of the school and how both were on the list and reasonably high up.

She points them both out the very second we enter the classroom.

"Well, I for one don't find them that cute." I say in an almost snobbish tone that I hadn't originally intended.

Violet stops in midstride, her mouth hung in agape, her eyes wide, similar to that of someone who had just been slapped in the face. "WHAT?!" She shuts her gaping mouth with her hand. "Are you lesbian or something?!"

"No, I'm just-" _scared to death of them, partially Simon. _I struggle to find the right words, I was never very good at being put on the spot. "You know what. If that shuts you up, yes I am a lesbian. But, just so you know, I'm not, I'm straight. Though you're welcome to think that if it shuts you up."

I smile and wander over to my seat, proud of my unexpected remark and the fact that Violet is still gaping at it.

But that smile is instantly wiped off my face when Mr Richardson announces that we have to prepare a lesson on trigonometry for a freshmen class and that my partner will be none other than Simon who I vowed I would avoid at all costs. Even though I had to agree with Violet that Mr Richardson was cute and it was only two days into the school year but I was developing a very strong hatred of Mr Richardson.


	5. Pulled Back Down

**A/N; Thankyou to everyone who has reviewed, but the atm this story only has 8 reviews and I would love to have some more feedback, so please review!**

**Disclaimer; Sadly Simon and Eric do not belong to me, but all the other characters and the plot do.**

* * *

FIGMENTS 05

Okay, now this defiantly another one of those fuck my life moments. I swear, my life is filled with them. Or maybe it's just bad luck, or a mix of both. Either way, Simon's walking over towards me, his eyes bright with excitement. At least he's enjoying this...I scowl.

It's just like it was yesterday. Him walking towards me with that inhuman grace of his and me; helpless to stop him and wanting to scream and run away more than anything. My heart is pounding again. I can hear it, like yesterday. I want to run. I don't want to do this. I hate Mr Richardson; he's not even that cute.

I half expect a waitress to pass him and smile. But there is no waitress, it's a school. However, the resemblance to yesterday is rather odd and only proceeds to scare me more. It's Courtney that passes him and smiles. And –like yesterday- I can't help but notice how her skirt is far too short; how her top is far too low. For some reason or other I'm worried he'll smile back and flirt, but he doesn't. He ignores her. I doubt he even noticed her. His eyes are glued mine. Another shiver runs up my spine. I have the urge to run. Again.

I hear Eric shout, "SIMON SCORED! Go get her man! WOOO!" And he blushes, he actually blushes. I can't believe my eyes.

My heart skips a beat as he slides into the chair next to me.

"I'm sorry about Eric, he's just...." He doesn't look up, he's still blushing.

I smile a crooked grin, but it's not quite there. "Yeah, I-um, figured." I could barely stifle a breath, I wanted to run.

His head instantly snapped up, "You're British?"

"You've _only_ just noticed?" I retort, as my fear vanishes for a brief moment. I pause, seeing hurt flash across his face. "I mean, I moved here at the start of summer, from England."

"Why?"

I hesitate for a moment, as my eyes break away from his. "Because my mother, um, passed away last year and being in England only reminded my Dad more of her. And we chose New York because my brother had always wanted to come here, and I guess I did too." _But not anymore._ The words were left unspoken between us, but were there nevertheless.

"Sorry about your mother." He looks at me, sympathy radiating from his gaze.

"I don't want your sympathy, but thanks."

Simon half smiles at me. I don't return his smile. "I've always wanted to go to England, not to London – well, I would, but not as much I've wanted to visit Derbyshire, you know the Peak District, from what I've seen, the lakes and rivers look stunning, and they're not going to be there forever-"

"Yeah, but it's not as if they're going to magically disappear in the next 80 years and anything, by the time they do, you'll be long gone." I furrow my eyebrows as he mutters something intelligible along the lines of; "I fucking wish."

The fear comes flooding right back. I tense up and begin to continuously tap my pencil on the desk, my eyes trying to stay away from his. I want to run away again, I want to get away again, to be anywhere but here. There's something not quite right about this boy and I sincerely hope I never get a chance to find out what that is.

His eyes glittered and he smiled a smile that made my heart melt into a million pieces. "Well I guess we better get to work, partner."

I couldn't help but smile in return and I couldn't hate myself more for doing it.

***

Days and days pass by; each drifting into one big, monotonous blur that I can't seem to grasp, and even though I have no real reason to do so; I can't help but feel like complete and utter crap. It feels as if I'm drowning, and every time I get pulled up, it feels like I'm pulled straight back down, plunging further and further in the never ending darkness.

Days and days pass by and my scar isn't close to healing. I touch it. It still hurts. As the vivid memory drifts back I can't help but shiver, tears threatening to penetrate my mask. No, not here, not at school. No.

Realising that for the past few minutes I'd been staring aimlessly into my locker, I pulled my tattered history folder out and slam it shut, causing it to make an ear-splitting squeak. I couldn't help but cringe. Stupid, cheap, locker.

St Xavier's had never been a school that valued it's appearance much, exhibit A; the crappy, rusty lockers where the vast majority of them stank of something to a combination of fish, vodka and well, crap However, I was one of the few people in the school lucky enough be in possession of a locker which smelt somewhat decent. Exhibit B; the lunch court. When it rains in New York, it pours it down so hard that it actually leaves bruises on your skin...and the cafeteria. Well, the cafeteria roof, that is. It was last Thursday, 12:34 to be exact, when it poured down so hard that part of the roof fell in, and to Violet's utter distaste it didn't land on Courtney.

When it happened I was absolutely flabbergasted, I had looked around expecting everyone to be running and screaming and panicking. I almost did myself. But not one person apart from me had looked up from their lunch.

"Oh, it always happens when it hammers it down." Lee muttered, catching my expression and grinning uncontrollably. "The school's too cheap to bother buying a _proper_ roof. Unfortunately not once has it caved in on a teacher."

"Or Courtney." Violet added, pointing her fork in Courtney's direction as to metaphorically jab her.

Lee shrugged in return and went to eating his chocolate and apple sauce sandwich. I didn't even bother ask.

I wind my arms around my history folder and saunter to history class, preparing for a long and –in my opinion – well deserved nap. I'm already half asleep as I turn the corner-

I collide with someone, jolting me awake. My history folder slips from my hands, I hear its contents splatter on the floor. Bugger.

"OH MY GOSH! I'M SO SORRY!" I splutter, pulling away from the figure, I can just about work out that it's a guy, though I try not to look at him. Instead, my eyes drift to the floor of the hallway; the entire contents of my history folder and some of what I suspect are his papers lacing the floor. I make a mental note to watch where I'm going.

I look up to see the poor guy I've bashed into. A chill runs up my spine. I make another mental note to slap myself, very hard.


	6. Are You Sore?

Author's Note; I'm sorry for taking so long to update. Thank you to every who reviewed, I found your comments very helpful. Please continue to review as I would love to know what you think of my story/how to improve!

* * *

FIGMENTS 06

"You know when walking it would really help if you look where you're going to avoid hitting any innocent bystanders." Simon mutters, a ghost of a smile present on his pale features. His mass of dark brown hair falls over his face as he pulls his hands out of his pockets and bends down to pick up some of my papers.

"You know when you're being sarcastic it would really help if you can up with a better remark than that. Lee could come up with a better comment, and that _is_ saying something." I retort, aiming a glare in his direction.

I bend down, too, to collect some of the papers splattered across the floor.

He looks up from the papers he's collecting and throws me a crooked smile, I try my hardest to keep the colour from rushing towards my features, but it does anyway.

"I'm sure Lee could, because he, you know, kind of hates me." He says in a light, cheery way, but there's a negative tone to comment buried underneath his mask.

I pause from gathering up all my notes on the Mormons and look up just in time to catch his gaze.

"Hate is a very strong word."

A high-pitched screeching sound echoes through the hallways, also known as the school bell, which is still _too loud_, jerking me out of my false sense of security. I'm alone with _him_. I'm alone and utterly defenceless with him and his terrible beauty, his jet black eyes, his too pale skin.

He holds out some of my history notes. His inhuman grace.

I feel the urge to run, to get away from here. To get away from _him._

It takes everything I have to stay rooted to the spot, so much that when I open my mouth to reply, no words come out. They just linger in the air, floating in the air above us, mocking me with every last unspoken syllable. _Please just leave._

"Lesley?" Simon says, my name sounds sickly sweet on his unnaturally scarlet lips, it rings chaotically in my ears, never ending, spiralling out of control. _Lesley, Lesley, Lesley. _"Are you okay? You've gone very pale all of a sudden."

His charcoal eyes were echoing with concern, for a moment I feel almost as if I can speak, as if my words were returning back to me. He gracefully steps towards me, history notes in hand. I almost reach out to get them. Then I remember the feel of his skin; cold, ice cold. Inhumanly cold. So cold that even the thought of it chills me to the bone. I jerk back as if he'd just slapped me.

Like a flicker of light pain blossoms into his eyes, somehow giving them more colour and stealing the fragments of darkness. His eyes leave mine.

"I should go. I guess I'll just leave these here for you." He whispers, his head hung low. Handfuls of his mahogany hair fell into his face, shielding his eyes from view. I don't have to see them to that they are filled to the very brim with the same hollowness they were at the coffee shop. And in that moment, I want nothing more than to forget how terrible and beautiful he is and to just take his pain away; I can no longer bare to see that amount of pain and anguish tattooed on his face. "I'm so sorry Lesley, I didn't mean to scare you."

And with that, he walks away, hands rooted in pockets and eyes never leaving the floor. I stand there in a sea of papers, hands clutched around myself and eyes never leaving the corridor in which he disappeared down.

I don't understand, one moment he takes my breath from me and the next he can't bare to meet my eyes for his are filled to brim with pain. One moment he was stood there without a care in the world and the next, _thanks to me_, it seems as if his entire world comes crashing down. As if it were even possible, his seamless sheet white skin fell paler. Was that because of me? It couldn't be, I'm just little girl from his school whom he barely knows, I don't hold an air of confidence and beauty as his friends do. I'm quite the opposite really. How could someone as feeble as me paint that expression upon his face?

_No Lesley, remember what he's _really_ like. Remember what he said in alleyway._

A shiver runs down my spine.

"_Lesley, Lesley, Lesley."_ His voice brakes into my mind, unwelcome. "_Lesley, Lesley, Lesley," _he pleads. I want to scream, and run, run away from this place, from this city, from the wicked _things _like him that reside in it. I want to get away from here.

I want it to stop. I want it to go away.

"_Lesley, Lesley, Lesley!"_

"Lesley?" The boy shouts, throwing his arms around me. "Lesley! It's Lee! Stop hitting me dammit!"

I stop. I didn't even realise I was hitting him in the first place. I turn to him and bury my head in his chest, he smells of pine trees and warmth. The scent is familiar, safe. I run my fingers up his arms; he's warm and full of life, not cold like a winter forest. Not like _him._

"Les, what happened?" I don't reply, I merely shake my head in his chest. "Was that guy from the coffee shop bothering you again?" The last part turns into a growl.

"N-no. It's nothing, I just- it's nothing." I whisper, as Lee squeezes me closer to him.

"_Lesley, Lesley, Lesley."_

"It's nothing." I repeat, more to myself than to him. I weave my way out of his arms and stare into his caramel eyes. "I'm fine, honestly."

He raises his eyebrows at me, his jaw set.

"Please Lee, just help me pick up these notes and take me home, okay?"

He sighs, "Fine Lesley, but one day or another, you're going to have to tell me what's wrong. Ever since that night at the coffee shop and your neck…" He trailed off when he caught the look on my face. He bit his lip, and pulled his eyes away from mine. "It's awful seeing you like this."

"Can you please just help me pick up these notes and take me home? I'm fine Lee, just tired." I murmur, but my heart isn't in it and Lee knows me enough to not see through it, but I can only hope that he'll play along, just this once. I can't deal with all this right now and I wish he would see that.

"You're not Lesley, you look dead. You've looked like this for weeks, and I'm tired of playing ignorant to it, I'm tired of dropping it whenever you please. I'm your best friend, yet you insist on telling me nothing, you keep me shut out." The malicious tone in his voice burns at my skin, at my heart, so much that it hurts to even look up at him. "Please Les, let me in." He says in a small voice. "I just…want to fix you."

_Make the visions of them go away, make them leave me alone. Make the boy with tattoos disappear, make _him _disappear_. I want to say, I want to scream, I want Lee to make the world stop, I feel like I'm drowning in its secrets_. _But instead I throw myself back into his arms and pray with all my heart that that's enough to make it all go away.

I know that it isn't.

Hell is empty and all the devils are here Shakespeare once said.

He didn't know how right he was.


	7. Hell Is Empty

**FIGMENTS 07**

The car journey was virtually silent; it was only remotely covered by the faint hum of the engine as it soared down the highway. And for the first since I'd been in his car, Lee didn't have any music playing. When we got into his car initially and he had turned the keys in the ignition so hard it was wonder they hadn't snapped off, Fall out Boy started blasting out. At an alarmingly fast rate, he turned it off as soon as it had started.

I'd been so shocked; I let out a small gasp and immediately clamped my hands over my mouth. I didn't dare say anything. Lee, hands clamped firmly on the tattered wheel didn't turn to look at me at all. It was almost as if I were invisible, perhaps that would've been more convenient for him.

_"Lesley, Lesley, Lesley."_

I close my eyes, just for a moment. We'd been driving for what felt like hours, and from glancing at the clock hammered into the dashboard, school had finished long ago but I didn't have a clue where we were.

I open my mouth then snap it closed, realising that anything I said would just piss Lee off even more. At this rate, I may never get home.

The sun was already beginning to fall over the buildings and skyscrapers, thick, glistening beams of light broke out from between them, making the light of the street lamps seem feeble and mundane. It was almost as if heaven itself was trying to cleanse the city of darkness, as it was determined to hang on the last slither of light it had left.

But in the end, darkness prevailed. Just as it always had and always would.

_"Lesley, Lesley, Lesley."_

I bite my lip to stifle a scream. I needed to distract myself; I need to get out of this musky and cramped car. I need to forget, more than anything. I need to forget _his_ chilling voice echoing inside my head.

"When are you going to stop driving around aimlessly?" The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them. I clamp a hand over my mouth, but it's too late; the words had already tumbled out of my mouth.

I brave a glance over at Lee, I watch as he tightens and untightens his hands on the steering wheel. He exhales heavily, as if he'd been holding his breath since we first entered his car.

"Until I'm no longer pissed at you." His words fell out of his mouth as a growl, shocking me a little, but oddly, not scaring me.

It remains silent for another couple of minutes before I throw him a lob sided smile he probably can't see and say, "Well I guess we're going to be stuck here for almost eternity."

He raises his pierced eyebrow, "Almost eternity?"

"Yeah, the petrol has to run out sometime." I grin.

Lee turns and smiles at me, playfully biting his lip to stifle a laugh. However, when a small giggle that sounded more like a deranged hiccup spills from my mouth, he can't help but throw his head back in laughter.

A sudden turn jolts me to the side of the car, causing the window winders to be slammed in my arm, my head collides with the firm glass window, flakes of black are scattered all over my vision, my head feels almost as if it's been set alight.

"FU-" Lee barely has a chance to finish swearing or regain control before the car smashes into a wall.

_"Lesley, Lesley, LESLEY!"_ _His_ voice screams in my head, each syllable feels as if it's being hammered into my brain. I want to run away, but I can't, the only thing I can see is darkness. I shout Lee's name, but no words come out, my ears are ringing, screeching. The sound is deafening.

I feel shadows creep around me, snatching and tearing at my skin before devouring me whole.

_The Church in front of me glistens in the shimmering sun. Rich sheets of gold and bronze line its windows and multiple archways that most likely lead into the Church. I smile, its rich architecture reminds of me of Buckingham Palace back home. There are intricate carvings of angels winding around its pillars. It's almost as if they're flying back into the heavens._

_"It's beautiful, isn't it?" _His _voice floats into my earshot, I prepare myself for the sudden shot of fear that usually accompanies his presence, but it doesn't come._

_I turn around to see Simon at the steps of the Church; he's stood smiling at me, wearing a suit. However, there's something different about him._

_I saunter down the steps to get a better look at him._

_Chocolate brown eyes gaze back at me through a pair of glasses resting on the tip of his nose. I gasp and in return he reaches out his hand towards me. I take it without hesitation. My eyes widen. His skin is warm, soft. Not like the winter ice._

_"Your skin isn't cold." I whisper._

_The edges of his lips twitch upwards, not in a way that's terrible; that sends shivers up my spine, not in a way that's beautiful; that makes me struggle to breathe, but in a way that's nice, lovely, in a way that makes me want to smile in return._

_"Your hair is silver," he mutters edging close to me in a way that is the complete opposite of his usually inhuman grace. He weaves his hands through my hair, almost caressing it. My lips part in shock as I gaze up at the slant of hair between his fingers. It's metallic silver, not kind of silver that comes with old age, but like steel. I almost wonder if I'd be able to see my reflection in it._

_I'm so close to him that I can feel his warm breathe on my skin, his chest rise and fall as breathes in and out, the rhythmic beating of his frail heart. He wraps his arms around me and I do the same in return, wanting nothing more than to be lost in his arms._

_A shadow between the pillars catches me eyes, I reluctantly pull away from him._

_There my mother stands, her wispy brown hair whips around her in the breeze. She seems much younger than how I remember her, her face looks as if it's been swept clean of any signs of age. She smiles and beckons me closer with her finger, and before I know it, vanishes into one of the arches of the Church._

_I chase after her, getting to only the tops of the steps before I realise Simon isn't following me._

_"Simon?" I call._

_He hadn't moved a muscle since I left him. "I'll be there in a moment. I'm just admiring the sun."_

_I nod in return and make my way into the Church, pushing the great cross encrusted doors of the Church open._

_There she was, stood at the alter in a brilliant white, angelic dress that fell and swirled around her ankles._

_I run into her arms._

_"My sweet Lesley," she whispers, running her hands through my hair._

_"There's someone I want you to meet mother, he's just outside. He should be here in a moment." I smile at her, but then it falters when she doesn't return it._

_"Honey, Simon cannot come in here." Tears are leaking down her glowing face. They look out of place on her, such a kind and gentle woman. They contrast heavily against her nature._

_"What?" I gasp._

_"Darling," she murmurs. "He's not like you or me. He's not of the living nor the dead."_

_Tears cloud my eyes. "But-" I take a deep breath. "He is now, didn't you see him?"_

_The doors slam open, I just back in shock. I turn to my mother, hoping her expression mirrors mine. It doesn't. She just looks on to the sunlight flaring into the Church._

_"Lesley!" Simon shrieks. I let out a scream._

_His hair is matted with blood and filth; his eyes had faded back into a shadowy black. His finger nails were broken and crusted with earth, it looked almost as if he'd dug himself out of his own grave. His glasses were missing and his skin was deathly pale. He looked dead._

_"Lesley!" He doesn't come in, doesn't move but for his screams. He reaches out towards me, the shape of a cross burned into the palm of right hand._

_I stumble towards him, my hand outstretched, wanting to hold onto him at the nearest possible second I can. I trip and slice my wrist on a piece of metal lodged in the door, scarlet blood almost forms a bracelet around my wrist._

_"Lesley." His voice is softer, more silky this time, but cuts through me like ice. He grins maliciously, revealing pointed teeth. I gasp; his are rolled back to their whites. Blood from his inky hair trickles down on his face, he scoops it up onto one of his fingers and licks it, sending chills bursting down my spine. He looks terrible and beautiful all at once. _

_I'm just a couple metres from him now._

_"Come here my sweet Lesley," he whispers. "Come out here and play my sweet Lesley. I'm hungry and you most certainly do look like a delicious treat."_

_I take a step towards him without even realising._

_"Good girl," he cackles, more blood is dripping down his face now. I want to scream, I want to run, but I can't. A mixture of horror and lust passes through me as he violently jerks me towards him and licks my neck. His arms clamp me in place, but oddly, I find my arms weaving around him._

_I try to pull him closer to me as if that were possible, but instead I stumble and fall back into the Church, dragging him along with me._

_I'm too shocked to even scream as his cracks saunter down his skin and he breaks apart into nothing more than dust, flickering in the rays of sunlight that fill the Church._


	8. Author's Note

****Hello guys! I've decided to rewrite Figments, and I've re-published it as a story called Batteries, which you can find on my profile.

There were many reasons I decided to do this, the first being that I don't believe that I developed the plot enough in order to carry on writing things the way they were. But don't worry, for the first few chapters everything is virtually the same as it is in Figments, they'll just be a few minor changes here and there, one of them being that Lee will now be called Tyler and he and, Violet, now called Emily are dating. However, the plot overall has drastically changed. There's a prologue for Batteries up at the moment, and I know it seems nothing like Figments, but it's all linked, and the next chapter will be for Figment-y, so stay tuned!

Thank you to everyone who's stuck with this story, I couldn't have done it without you guys.


End file.
